


Tomorrow

by greenieboy



Category: 9 to 5 the Musical - Parton/Resnick
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:21:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25757266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenieboy/pseuds/greenieboy
Summary: “ Her hands should be trembling, but they’re not. And her legs should feel like dead weights, but they don’t. And her mind should be running a hundred miles a minute, but it isn’t. She just feels… nice.”Judy has feelings for her friend.
Relationships: Judy Bernly/Violet Newstead
Kudos: 16





	Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> hello there !! this is a super old draft i never finished, but i decided to finally. it’s p gay. no beta i’m very sorry for my errors

It’s not something Judy talks about. It really isn’t something Judy even thinks about. She pushes it down, hides it, represses it, whatever she has to do to wake up and go through one more normal day. That doesn’t mean it’s not there, or that it’s ever gone away. No, it sits, lingers, festers in the back of her mind like a pot on low heat. Judy can leave it and forget about it for a little while, but it always bubbles up, bubbles out to remind her of what she is. It’s shameful, really. She’s learned tactics, techniques to keep it down and inside, away from the scrutinising public eye. But nothing Judy does, nothing she’s learned, nothing she could ever hope to attempt will change the fact that  _ it is there, _ and it will never leave. It’s maddening, but it used to be manageable. Judy could cover it with the buttons of a blouse, a twist of hair, a stroke of blush, a swatch of lipstick. Tuck it away in her purse and claspe the bag closed for the day. She can’t do that anymore. It bursts from the seams of her purse like an overfilled balloon, ready to pop. It’s always ready to pop. It fights against its constraints, desperately, daily. It started when Violet touched her cheek.

It had been innocent, but Judy isn’t innocent. Violet’s fingers barely grazed her cheek once and she was leaning in further, her heart beating in her throat like a drum, almost choking her. She hadn’t cared. Because Violet had smiled at her, laughed a little - those short laughs she has, the ones that make Judy giddy - with her, and said something Judy can’t quite recall. She had been busy staring. She does that, now. Judy had never before, but her life now is nothing like it’s ever been. She’s single, divorced - she’d been on the verge of dancing from aching joy and sobbing out of harrowing dread when Dick had served her those papers - and working her very first job, with very good friends and very kind neighbors and no abusive husband. And a terribly attractive and confident boss-slash-best friend that causes Judy’s knees to go weak when she gets a little too close. Or when she touches Judy’s shoulder. Or when she smiles in Judy’s direction. Or when she -

“Judy, you okay?”

Judy blinks into focus, her eyes trained on the xerox machine, her hands resting on the sides of the control panel. She glances over her shoulder; Violet wears her coat, clutching her bag. She glances to the clock on wall adjacent; it’s 5:29pm. Everyone’s probably left the office by now. Judy should’ve left by now. But she had been staring off into space, thinking about the best friend who made her want to do things that the bible said would condemn her to Hell for the rest of eternity. But what is that Hell compared to the one she would face on earth if she ever confessed to Violet just what she inspires within the confines of her linen blouse. Judy’s hands tremble.

“Judes?” Violet walks a little closer to her.

Judy straightens, forcing a smile to her lips. “Yes, sorry. I’m alright,” she says, removing the now cold copies from the xerox tray. She pauses, holding the papers to her chest. “Were you on your way out?” She asks. The answer is yes, clearly, because Violet is dressed to leave, but Judy just wants to hear her voice. She’s found that small indulgences, like relishing in the warmth and comfort that Violet’s voice carries, keeps her slated for just enough time to make it to the next occasion. For now, she supposes.

“Yeah, I was about to leave,” says Violet, and she follows Judy as she walks to her dress to put away the copies for tomorrow. “You want me to wait for you?”

“Uhm.” Judy so very desperately does that red blush stains her cheeks within seconds. But she needs to organize her desk and return a few files to their cabinets and, really, she shouldn’t spend too much time with Violet or else she’ll start to become dependent. Their lunches, and afternoon coffee and tea breaks, and the occasional morning coffee and tea break, and their dinners every other Sunday night, and their spontaneous movie nights every few weeks or so, should be enough for her. So, she shakes her head, hiding her face from Violet, and says, “No, you don’t have to. I’m sure you need to get home.” Violet gives her a look but says nothing, choosing instead to lean against one of the desks in the bullpen and silently wait for her. Judy tries not to blush harder, or think into deeply about the implications this act of  _ friendship,  _ but she fails miserably at both and instead focuses on the files in her hand. The top file goes to the fourth floor, the top middle to seventh, the bottom middle to second (of all people), and the last one to -

“Is that the reports I asked you to finish?” Asks Violet. She’s suddenly very close to Judy now. Judy blanks, her lips parted, but there are no words forming in her mind to communicate. She feels like she’s short circuited, and if Violet touches her, she may not be responsible for the electricity bound to spark.

“Hm? Um, yes,” Judy murmurs, and her voice doesn’t even sound audible. But Violet smiles. She smiles a lot around Judy, Doralee had pointed out once. That comment had made Judy overthink for two weeks straight, Judy remembers. How embarrassing. “They’re done,” Judy adds as Violet flicks through the manila file.

Violet turns her head, fixing her gaze on Judy and it’s all her strength to remain upright. “Thanks, Judes,” she says brilliantly, and it makes a warm feeling tingle in her chest. “I’ll put these in my office.”

Judy nods as Violet strides off in the direction of her office, watching with keen eyes as the woman unlocks the door and enters. Judy finds herself staring for a moment, breathing evenly (perhaps for the first time that day) and blinking rarely. She shakes her head, a physical dispersal of unwanted thoughts, and begins her reorganizing her desk. She moves her tape and stapler back into their spots near her telephone, shuffles a few papers together and places them on the “to-do” bin at the edge of her desk, unclicks a couple pens and ticks them away in their holder. Her desk wasn’t so messy today. Judy is thankful. When she turns around to look at Violet’s office, she sees her friend in the doorway, eyes specifically on Judy, leaning against the frame with a smile on her lips. She watches as Violet pushes herself forward, and in a fit of confidence, Judy finds her feet striding to meet the woman.

“Ready to leave?” Violet asks her, unfazed at being caught staring. An unspoken fact (Violet  _ had _ waited for her) hung in the air between them. But Judy smiles and nods, and Violet offers her arm to Judy. They’re so accustomed to this now, Judy admits to herself as she links their arms together. They have a lovely balance that just feels so wonderful. Even if Judy knows she harbors sinful feelings for her friend, at least she has a friend. And at least that friend is Violet. It makes her feet feel lighter as they walk.

They’re out of the elevator as fast as they had entered. Judy had recited a couple stanzas of Emily Dickinson to distract herself from the stuffy reality inside the metal box. Violet was unaffected as always, and Judy likes how constant she is. She thinks that as they push out into the garage. Judy takes the subway home usually, but she always leaves through the garage. (She likes walking out of Consolidated with Violet.)

“Have a good evening, Violet,” Judy tells her, and she means it. She always does.

“You too, kiddo,” replies Violet, squeezing Judy’s shoulder and then releasing it. Judy smiles brightly and turns on her heels, waving goodbye as she does. She makes it a total of five steps before Violet calls out, “Judy?”

“Yes?” Judy says, glancing over her shoulder.

Violet hasn’t moved an inch. “Listen, Judy, I - I um,” she mumbles, and Judy is sure she’s never heard Violet mumble. It makes her chest tighten up, and it’s like she’s stopped breathing. Violet clears her throat. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”

Judy blinks. “Nothing,” she answers easily. She never does anything on Friday night.

“Well,” Violet says, rocking on her feet. “How about we go out? Get dinner? A buddy of mine has a restaurant he’s been trying to get me to eat at for ages, and I thought you…” She trails off, eyes cast down, before inhaling deeply. “I thought you might wanna go with me?”

“Yes.” Judy speaks before her brain can stop her.

“Yes?” Violet questions. Judy takes one of her hands.

“Yes,” she says, and her giddiness easily drips into her tone. “I would love to.”

Violet blinks. “Oh,” she sighs, and she looks very relieved. She squeezes Judy’s hand and grins. “Alright then. I’ll pick you up tomorrow.“

Judy nods. “Seven-thirty?” She offers.

Violet's smile widens. “Sounds good.” Then, she’s leaning in. Her lips press a kiss to the corner of Judy’s mouth, and Judy inhales sharply. Her hands should be trembling, but they’re not. And her legs should feel like dead weights, but they don’t. And her mind should be running a hundred miles a minute, but it isn’t. She just feels… nice. Violet pulls away and looks at her shyly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Judy grins. “Tomorrow.”

**Author's Note:**

> leave a kudos or comment if u liked this, and find me on tumblr @ bernly


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